


Under the Light of the Moon

by Stella (bella)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Claiming, Dubious Consent, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Moonhunt AU, Mpreg, November AU, Other, Sentinel/Guide Bonding, Spirit Animals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-09-08
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/890981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella/pseuds/Stella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a quick one-off side story that takes place in an A/B/O Sentinel AU. It's an AU of my Moonrise AU, which is a combo Moonhunt/November AU of The Sentinel, which is itself an AU. So...this is an AU of an AU of an AU of an AU. It's also a love story, inasmuch as brash, romantic Sentinels and neurotic, reluctant Guides can have one.</p><p>In this AU, Guides are always omegas, and Sentinels are always Alphas. Nons are mostly betas, although on occasion, a non-Guide omega or a non-Sentinel Alpha will appear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Moonrise](https://archiveofourown.org/works/171562) by [Stella (bella)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella/pseuds/Stella). 



> These characters do not belong to me, and I intend no infringement upon the rights of the original creators, producers, or anyone associated with Pet Fly, UPN, or Paramount. This is an original work of fiction intended only for the enjoyment of other fans.

5:42 am.

Sidney groaned, shut his phone, and dropped it on the small puddle of scrunched-up clothes he'd left on the floor. He blinked his eyes a few times in the dark room, head swimming as he tried to process the events of the night before.

Ahhhhhh, how _badly_ he just wanted to go back to sleep. But it was Monday, and Monday was a Real People Work Day, not a Still In School Sleep Day. Sidney moaned quietly to himself. Fucking Dinny could sleep in. Fucking Dinny was married and on winter break from _art_ school, so he probably hadn't planned on getting up before 1. 

Sidney swung one leg over the edge of the couch and stretched his toes against the cool hardwood floor, letting the cold Boston winter slip its fingers through the cracks of the old building and up to his skin. It was just so much _harder_ to get up in the winter. 

Too bad. Duty called, and he couldn't afford to ignore it. It hadn't been easy getting this job in the first place, not with all the travel it required. Employers were unwilling enough to make the required special accommodations to hire an unbonded Guide -- and despite how often the man leered at him, Sidney knew his boss wouldn't be interested in keeping on an Omega who didn't even show up.

So he had to get up.

First, Sidney tried to persuade himself to just stand up straight and face facts, but that seemed unnaturally difficult. Next, he considered sitting up and sort of slowly acclimating to wakefulness, but decided the risk of recidivism was too high. He settled for sliding off of the couch onto the floor like a jellyfish and letting the hardwood do the work for him.

It worked, and as soon as he hit the small rug, it skidded out, delivering him to a floor so cold it felt wet. He scrambled to get his legs under himself. Cold cold cold cold. Where were his socks? Hell, where were his _shoes? How much had they had to drink last night?_

The room spun a little bit. Sidney blinked at his hands, shrugged the kinks out of his shoulders, and checked his phone again. If he left now, he should make it home by 6:15 - enough time to shower, shave, eat, rifle through his unpacked suitcases to find clothes, finish the report he hadn't written before he'd left last night, and then make it to work at 9. Probably. 9:15 if he hit traffic. 9:30 at the latest.

Sidney staggered around in the dark of Dinny and Justin's apartment for a few minutes, bumping against the breakfast table and bar cart, adjusting the clothes he'd slept in and trying desperately not to knock anything over and wake Justin. Funny how Sentinels always lost their sense of humor when they had to work the early shift. 

Sidney finally managed to get himself sorted out enough to pick up his hat, scarf, socks (Dinny had laid them out over the radiator the night before) and coat and tip-toe toward the door, shoes in hand. He felt around to check for his keys - yes, still in his front pocket - and glanced again at his phone. 

5:53 am.

Ugh. He was going to have to rush his shower.


	2. Outside.

Sock-footed and balancing his armful, Sidney ran as quickly and quietly as he could down the hall of Justin and Dinny's apartment complex. It was a beautiful building, put up long before the Dark Years and still in reasonably good shape despite the turmoil it had undoubtedly seen. Most of the residents now living here would be young Sentinel families, although Sidney also knew that there were two floors of unbonds: one for Guides and non-Guide Omegas, and one for Sentinels and non-Sentinel Alphas. 

It was kind of difficult for Sidney to wrap his head around the idea of unbonded omega-Guides living in the same building as a bunch of hot and hungry Alpha-Sentinels. It was indecent, really -- and dangerous. Sure, the Fair Chase and Omega Safety laws had improved things and given omegas a bit more protection and autonomy, but risks remained and Sidney had no intention of rolling the dice. Anything could happen: unexpected heat cycles, aggression spikes, frenzies. Just straight-up _violence_. How the SSN managed to get this past any kind of governing council was beyond him, except that the Council was probably half made up of stalwart neo-primalists who balked at any "infringement" on Sentinels' right to do whatever the hell they pleased.

He slipped into his jacket, then his shoes, and came to the elevator at the end of the hall. He straightened his collar as he stepped in and then punched the button for the garage access level. Two blue buttons stuck out among the floors listed: 7S* and 6G*. Just out of curiosity, he tried to press for the Sentinels' floor. It didn't take, and a message blipped across the display screen requesting a Sentinel ID. He tried to press for the Guide's floor. Still didn't take, only now the message requested a Guide ID or a Sentinel override code. Figured.

Sometimes, Sidney wondered if these kinds of things were intentional. He shivered, remembering a radio broadcast he'd heard back in junior levels at Academy - some Sentinel politician who'd believed that Guides _should_ fear Sentinels, should fear their power. He'd believed that fear would keep them in line, and therefore keep them safe.

Sidney shook his head. That was exactly the reason he didn't want a Sentinel. Always with the fucking intimidation tactics. 

Even Justin, who Sidney had come to love like a slightly-overbearing brother, pulled that shit on him sometimes. Dinny tried to run interference, but there was only so much he could do to mitigate Justin's Sentinel self. 

Sidney flashed suddenly, involuntarily, to the One Secret he and Justin both still kept from Dinny. If Sidney were honest, it had been a horrible night and he'd rather forget it completely, but he'd been trying for years now and had made no progress. Which was bullshit because it wasn't as if it had been a watershed moment or anything - he'd just been 28 and pitiful and apathetic and alone and it had only seemed fair at the time that he should be allowed to wallow in the grand misery of it all. 

So he'd gone out to the borderline part of town where transient non-Sentinel Alphas and Guides who were a _little too willing_ tended to lurk, and where overly curious betas sipped drinks inside of dank dive bars and tried not to be too obvious about their predilections. Sidney had been out of place and alone, and Justin had been unexpectedly assigned to nighttime patrol.

It had only been the first hour of his first round when he'd stumbled across Sidney throwing up in an alley behind The Hedonist, so sloshed he could barely stand and with an Alpha he'd just met rubbing his back and assuring him that he was sober enough for a little more fun. 

Justin had taken one look at the scene and gone feral - which was to his credit, Sidney supposed, since that kind of instantaneous protective instinct was typically reserved for close friends and family only. But Justin loved Dinny, and Dinny loved Sidney and so Sidney was a part of Justin's own little personal pack. Which made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, but which also had some pretty significant drawbacks - as Sidney had found out once he had been marched out to a squad car, shouted at for half an hour, and then driven home for the incomparable experience of being disciplined by his friend's husband.

So…all things considered, it was probably a good idea to sneak out before Justin woke up and saw Sidney in that state again. Ugh. What time was it now? Sidney flicked out his phone again: 5:56 am. Perfect.

Moonhunt nights had become a tradition for he and Dinny when they were still very young, still in Academy, and still terrified of the power of what they would become. They'd had their first sleepover-hideout after Dinny's first heat had come at 15 and Sidney's had followed right behind. They'd holed up together hundreds of times over the years -- in parents' houses, in dorm rooms, in cramped group apartments where they could talk and laugh and relive their greatest moments and create exciting new ones and drink and make fucked up art and bitch about work and school and argue and just _love_ each other.

Then Justin had come, and there had been dating and weekend trips and Stage 1 bonding and meeting parents and a ridiculous argument about getting a dog, of all things, and crying and then being apart and then one hundred poppy flowers and getting back together and moving in together and Stage 2 and then filing the approval papers and suddenly, all at once, Dinny had done it. And now Justin was a permanent part of their lives and Sidney was slowly becoming accustomed to him. 

The elevator shuddered to an unreliable stop, and Sidney made his way out like a cat figuring its way out of an upturned box - all tentative steps and tense limbs. In the hall, he blinked against the brighter lights, leaned against the wall for balance, listed slightly to port, then righted himself and headed down the hall toward the skybridge that led out of the building. 

Boy, he did not feel well. Maybe he should have slowed down last night. Maybe Justin was maybe kind of right.

Reaching the end of the hall, he pushed out of the glass security doors, rubbing the bridge of his nose where his head was beginning to ache. Shit, but it had gotten colder overnight. He turned up his coat collar as a minor defense and tugged on his scarf. The last thing he needed was a cold _and_ a hangover. The counterbalance slowed the slam of the door as he released it, and it groaned, then clicked quietly shut behind him. 

Now all that was left was to find his car. Sidney scowled at himself. Of course he'd forget where he parked on the _coldest night ever_. Of course. 

Irritated, he turned in a circle, and as he did, he caught sight of something that made his heart drop into his belly. Across the garage, between two concrete pillars, a rectangular patch of still-black night was barely visible, and a gray-pink moon peeked out from behind a cloud. 

Sidney froze. 

Oh _shit_.   
It was still night.   
And he was outside.


	3. Pieces.

Everything went to pieces. Sidney trembled and shook and whipped around in one direction, then the other -- feeling threatened and terrified and wanting more than anything to run back to the building and bang on the doors and scream for Justin and Dinny to please please please let him in. But they were asleep, six floors up. 

Sidney turned in circles for a few minutes like a lost dog, pace-looping in a panic. Help. He needed help. Or he needed to run. Could he run? Was it too late to run? He could make it if he ran, right? Or maybe that would just entice them? Maybe he shouldn't run. Was running bad or good?! He tried to remember his Sentinel Safety class, but that had been senior year, when he and Dinny had turned 23 and decided to have early quarterlife crises and do all the things they hadn't in Academy. So he'd been completely drunk, slightly high, and mostly truant the entire year -- whatever he'd managed to accidentally learn in class was long since forgotten. 

Sidney took four deep breaths, trying to calm himself enough to assess the situation. He listened, carefully, for sounds of movement in the garage; none came. No one was coming after him. He was not in chase. He was not cornered. He was alone. 

Slowly, his heart slowed down and the adrenaline began to leach out of his veins. 

Silly of him to get so overworked, wasn't it? Honestly, by 0600 hours on a cold night four days before Christmas, the Moonhunt would already be long over. Any Sentinels who'd come out at sunset would have since gone home, either to nurse injured egos or to relish in the sweet taste of sexual victory.

And it wasn't as if any Sentinel with half a brain for strategy would have come to linger around the parking garage at a small apartment complex, anyway. Not with the Guides' Collective so nearby, and the University just up the road. 

Sidney took two more deep breaths to steady himself and stepped resolutely forward. The fear had sobered him somewhat, which was helpful because it was time to get on with the morning. Shower, then coffee, then maybe a quick toke. Just a little one. Miniature. It would help his inner Guide calm down.

Still trying to shake off his earlier panic attack, Sidney found his car parked illegally in a reserved space on the far side of the green section and shoved a hand down in his pocket to find his key.

He was still trying to squeeze his hand deep enough into the pocket of his form-fitting jeans (maybe there _was_ such a thing as too tight, after all) and not at all paying attention to the world around him when a man suddenly rounded the side of the SUV across the parking aisle and began walking toward him. 

Sidney's head jerked up and he froze beside the car, wanting to run, wanting to scream, wanting to do a million things and unable to take a single step. His heart leapt out of his chest; the man came closer. There wasn't space -- there wasn't enough space to run past him, to give him a shove and make a break for it and this man was classic Sentinel; he was brawn and height and purpose and strength.

The man kept walking. Sidney felt his blood pound in his veins. He should run, shouldn't he? At least put up a token effort? But why? He was locked out of the building, and there wasn't a Sanctuary within ten blocks -- far too long to make it with a Sentinel in moonhunt pursuit. Unless he ran very hard and got very, very lucky. 

Only a few feet remained between them now. Oh God, but Sidney was fucked. Caught and fucked, he corrected. His heart pounded. His Guide purred. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad? Maybe it was inevitable. After all, he was 30 now; hardly a child anymore - no good reason not to accept the outcome of the Hunt.

The man crossed the last bit of space that separated them, turned toward Sidney, gave a curious sniff…and then carried on walking right past him to unlock another vehicle and get inside. 

Of course.

Sidney doubled over in relief, sucking in huge, grateful breaths as he realized that the man was (a) wearing a mid-ranking officer's patrol uniform, (b) carrying a suitcase, (c) wearing a ring on his left hand, and (d) not emitting the jumpy, electric energy of an unbonded Sentinel. No, this Sentinel was far into a different stage of life: bonded, married, and on his way to lead the rest of his team on early shift.

Sidney closed his eyes, feeling ridiculous. Right. Because this was an apartment building full of responsible adults, and it was Monday morning. Responsible adults didn't stay up drinking down the moon on Sunday nights. Responsible adult Sentinels and Guides went to bed together at a reasonable hour so that they would be reforged and rested for the start of the week.

Sidney felt stupid and embarrassed and bitter, all at once. Thirty years old, and he was still sneaking out to his car at 6 am, drunk, late for work and jumping around like a stray cat.

But fuck it. At least he was having fun. Shower, coffee, and then existential crisis. No time for that bullshit now. 

Sidney shoved his hand back in his pocket, finally palming out the small tangle of keys. Squinting to focus in the weird light of the garage, he picked out the correct key and turned around to find a young Sentinel with dark hair and piercing gray eyes leaning calmly against his driver's-side door.

Sidney was at first too confused to be afraid, until the Sentinel drawled a slow, amused _Hello_ and shifted his weight to his forward hip, eyes never leaving Sidney's face.

Sidney bolted.


	4. Veer

Sidney had no idea where he was going, only that he was running, and that he had his phone in his hand and was trying to call Dinny, but it was hard while also fleeing from a Sentinel. He slammed into the glass security door, but couldn't remember the code and didn't bother pounding on it. Instead, he swung around and slipped just past a grasping hand toward the broader space of the garage. Sidney spotted the open mouth of the side stairwell, on the opposite side of the expanse.

In the type of cheesy romance movie that Dinny was so fond of and Sid pretended to hate, there was always shouting in the chase. Sentinels cried out, 'Wait! Stop! I just want to know your name!' and Guides simpered, 'I'm not ready to bond!' and then they exchanged witticisms as they knocked over fruit stands and bounded over newspaper carts and the space between them narrowed. 

This wasn't like that. There was no shouting. Everything felt eerie and unreal. All Sidney heard were footfalls - his own, scattered and ragged, and the Sentinel's even, military-sharp pace after him. 

At one point, Sidney glanced over his shoulder (a mistake) to see the Sentinel closing the gap, coming up on Sidney's right side to flank him and Sidney thought suddenly of ships at sea. He tried to veer to the left, but they were approaching the bottleneck of the stairwell's entrance and if he didn't gain ground now he'd never have it. 

So Sidney ran and ran harder and ran harder and wished he'd done more work in his aerobics class and ran harder and then the stars converged and everything fell apart.

Sidney's left foot went out at the top of the stairs and he grabbed onto the rail to catch himself, save himself from _imminent pain and injury_ \- only it wasn't the rail, it was the Sentinel's arm and his ankle twisted and he yelped and then he was being hoisted up and there was a firm, calm voice in his ear that was saying _I've got you. It's alright now; I've got you._


	5. Negotiations.

Sidney would be ashamed, later, of the way he'd behaved in the time between being caught and arriving at the intake center. 

There had been tears and begging and he'd tried to swing on the Sentinel a few times even though he knew that wasn't allowed, and he'd thrown such a fit getting into the car that the Sentinel had threatened to cuff him, and he'd said terrible things about the man's mother and his Pack and the Sovereign Sentinel Nation, and then when the door of the SUV had finally shut, he'd cried in big gulping sobs for five full minutes before trying, awkwardly, to negotiate.

"We could - " Sidney's breath hitched again and his nose was running, but he scrubbed at his face with one arm and went on. "We could do other things." he said, quietly. "I could… do other things for you, if you want." he offered, blinking sticky-wet eyelashes and not meeting the Sentinel's eyes. "Please?" his voice cracked, "Is that - is that what you want? You don't have to take me if that's what you want! I can - I can do that."

The Sentinel had looked crossways at him from the driver's seat and Sidney hadn't been sure whether the expression was intrigue or disgust or alarm, but eventually, he'd just answered with a calm, "No, thank you." that had made Sidney feel _even worse_ somehow, and he ended the ride in awkward, humiliated tears.


	6. Wait.

Sidney was the last catch of the night, and the fatigued medical staff at the intake were more than ready to finish his paperwork up and get him moved out. 

As he stripped in the small examination room, Sidney protested that it had been an improper get - that the parking garage was part of a private structure and so not technically outside, but the elder female Guide nurse just calmly informed him that his case had already been reviewed by the Huntmaster and that there was nothing more she could do. 

"You could give me a 24-hour medical hold, though, couldn't you?" he pressed, squeezing his knees together for warmth in the cool room and testing the flex of his bandaged ankle. "Maybe it's not an improper get, but it's definitely unfair chase, right? My - my BAC's elevated, so I'm not fully in a position to act to elude, and… "  
The nurse checked his chart, then flicked a look up at him.  
"You were going to drive home with an elevated blood alcohol level?"

Sidney licked dry lips, not eager to leap from the frying pan into the fire.

"No, well - I mean - yeah, OK, I would have been fine to drive - "  
"So then I'm sure you were fine to run, as well." she answered, and clipped the chart shut again.  
Sidney's head swam.  
"But I didn't mean to do it!" he protested. "I didn't mean to come out. I thought - I thought it was an enclosed garage, I thought it was - "  
"Sidney," the nurse said slowly, shaking her head, "I think you already know that with this administration, 'I didn't mean to do it' isn't going to fly." She raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. "And I'm sorry, but I can't give you an illegitimate medical hold -- that could cost me my license and my job. What I _can_ give you is some advice."  
She sighed heavily.  
"It's 7 am now. If you…can get your Sentinel to wait -- at all -- then you can file for an appeal at midnight."

Sidney's eyebrows ran together.  
"He won't wait," he answered, his voice thin but sure. "He's not going to want to wait."

The nurse reached out and laid a hand on his bare shoulder then, warming him slightly and easing some of the pain of worrying.


	7. Approach.

Five minutes after sunrise, his Sentinel stood waiting for him in the parking lot. 

Sidney took one look at him and felt even more ridiculous than he had before. The Sentinel was a kid - 20 if he was a day. Taller than Sid, and with an Alpha's build -- but fresh-faced as a baby. Sidney groaned. How the _fuck_ was he supposed to deal with this?

The Sentinel pushed off of the dark SUV he'd been leaning against and approached him. When he got within a few feet, he stopped, and he and Sidney just stared at each other across the middle distance.

"You're a kid." Sidney laughed, abruptly. The corners of the younger man's mouth turned downward slightly.  
"Old enough to take a Guide." he answered, firmly.  
Sidney shook his head and backed up.  
"No. Sorry, no. Nuh-uh. I'm not buying it. My Sentinel's supposed to a mysterious, brooding, older Alpha with a penchant for fine wines and spending money on me. This? Some high schooler out after curfew? Not gonna work. I'm out of here. Done. I'm going home."  
The Sentinel's eyes narrowed.  
"The only place you're _going_ is back to my territory, to bond."  
Sid rolled his eyes.  
"Great. Then I want to talk to an ombudsman."

The Sentinel looked injured, momentarily, and Sid felt a pang of empathy. Asking for an ombudsman was a shitty move, no doubt, but what other choice did he have?

"Fine." Shuttering his expression, the Sentinel turned to the side and gestured for one of the passing Sentinels. Quickly, one of a group who had been packing a vehicle came trotting over, his face wrinkled into an expression of worry and his energy curious.  
"Something wrong?"  
Sidney's Sentinel crossed his arms over his chest and jerked his chin toward the object of his frustration.  
"Need an ombudsman."  
The other Sentinel's eyes widened just a fraction, then he turned his gaze to Sidney. His voice was brisk, but gentle, and his eyes had the sharp concern characteristic of crisis staff.  
"What's happened?"

The newly-appointed ombudsman was staring at him now, shifting his weight slightly to place himself protectively between Sidney and the other Sentinel. His eyes met Sid's, searchingly, and his gaze flicked between the Guide's unbruised face, heaving shoulders, and lightly bandaged ankle. 

Sidney looked away; he could sense the intervening Sentinel's worry, and the man obviously expected some testimony of intemperate violence or sexual abuse. Caught out, and feeling both silly and self-righteous, Sid jerked a thumb toward the younger Sentinel, who was brooding at a short distance.  
"Inappropriate match."  
The ombudsman paused and glanced between the two men. His brow furrowed.  
"You two related?"  
"No." Sidney said, fighting a flush. "He's just too young for me."

The Sentinel's expression shifted rapidly from one of sympathy to one of utter ennui.  
"How old are you, Sentinel?"  
"25."  
"He's 25, Guide." the ombudsman repeated back to Sidney, boredom evident in his tone. Sid rolled his eyes. So this was what dedicated public service looked like, he supposed.  
"Right. Well, I'm 30."  
The other Sentinel blinked at him. Sid decided more explicit details might help move the matter along.  
"I'm five years older than him."  
No reaction.  
"I'm _thirty_." Sidney repeated, in a clearer voice.  
The man continued to stare blankly, then his brow creased just slightly.  
"If you're concerned about your fertility, I can assure you that my mate conceived easily at 32 and again at - "  
"I wasn't concerned about my fertility!" Sid interrupted, losing the battle against the flush that crept up his neck and the sides of his face. He took two deep breaths and tried again. "I want a review."

The other man considered this, glanced between them, then shook his head.  
"No. Sorry; I can't support that. Doesn't seem to be any reason for it." The Sentinel turned his gaze over from Sidney to his companion. "Unless your Sentinel agrees, and the rescind is mutual. Would you prefer to find another Moonhunt mate, Sentinel?"  
" _No_." the younger man snapped, suddenly standing very close.  
A surprising amount of dominance bled through his voice, making Sidney take a step back. The other Sentinel mirrored him, also taking a step away.  
"I chose _him_ , and I chased _him_ , and I caught _him_."  
The churlishness from before had begun to morph into something more serious now.  
"He's **mine**."

The last words were a straight-up growl, and Sidney dropped his head in a reflexive expression of deference.  
"OK, OK." he muttered, putting his hands up in a conciliatory gesture.

The other Sentinel looked equal parts intimidated and uninterested in debating the finer points of who belonged to who in this bundle.  
"Well, you heard the man." he shrugged, blithely, as he turned to head back toward his previous task, raising an arm as he jogged off. "You two have a good day!"

Sidney glared after his retreating figure, but there was nothing to be done now but face facts. He turned to address the younger man beside him and got a neckful of his Sentinel's nose.  
"Agh…" the Guide squirmed against the touch and put a hand up to shove the invader away. "Oh, come on! Get off of me!" Released, he took a step back and shook his head. "OK, listen: I can't do this. I'm not accepting this bond. I'm - I'll call an unfair get. This is stupid. You're a child!" 

The Sentinel's eyes darkened, but Sidney went on.  
"I mean, honestly! Twenty-five?"  
The Sentinel grinned, baring his teeth in a predatory - and frankly, smug - imitation of a smile.  
"Well, I'll be 26 by the time you're squatting out my first cub in an SSN birthing room."  
Sid reared back, one hand to his chest, appalled by the indelicacy.  
"You are an asshole _and_ a child." he clarified.  
The Sentinel's expression became impish, then amused, and he responded:  
"Sure. But a lot of people just call me 'Ryan'."


	8. Thoroughness

Sidney stared at the large, unfamiliar bed and felt cold and young and terrified. Ryan had politely excused himself from the room; ostensibly to check the perimeter of the newly-built home complex before their bonding, but more probably to politely give Sidney a little bit of privacy to freak out in.

The Guide took three deep breaths and squeezed trembling fingers around the knotted tie of his scrub pants. His head was buzzing; the few quick, incidental touches between the Sentinel and himself had set it off on high alert, and the adrenaline of the morning and lingering effects of the night before hadn't helped. Everything felt slippery - no, not quite that. More…parting. Motile, maybe. Insubstantial. Like walking in sinking mud.

Numbly, Sidney stared at the creases in the ironed pillowcase and thought about calling his office. They would be wondering where he was, and his boss - right. Wouldn't need to do that, since his name would be all over the registers of the morning's Hunt announcements, and the Guide Center would probably send a letter in on his behalf. 

Sidney imagined Charlie in his office, shaking his head over _another dumb Guide_ who'd never had any intention of a career after all; had only wanted something to do to kill the time between leaving Academy and bonding to a Sentinel. _Waste of my fuckin' HR office,_ Charlie would say, and Jeanine would laugh and they'd step outside for a smoke and a complaint about the settings on the new clear-touch screens.

Sidney swallowed, feeling an embarrassment that was familiar and an ache that was not. He was trying to be realistic about this; he was trying to be _an adult_ about this. 

The ki - _his Sentinel_ , he corrected - had made it very clear that he wasn't open to negotiating the bond; that he'd caught Sidney for a reason; that he believed strongly in the favor of the hunt; and that he would brook no further attempts at discouragement. 

And that was that. And Sidney would deal with it, because Sidney was an adult and he wasn't allowed to be scared. Scared was for sixteen-year old high schoolers sitting half-naked and embarrassed in the Appeals room of the Guide Center, or for twenty-two year old unbonds anxiously filling out elective termination applications at the Clinic. Scared was not for thirty year old lifetime Guides who'd known damn well what a Moonhunt was when they'd stumbled into a parking garage at 5:57 in the morning.

An air unit kicked on somewhere, quietly, and a chill began to settle over the room. It brought Sidney back into focus; there was still work to be done. A bath. A prayer. A blank Self-Assessment Checklist. 

Drawing deeply on his years of Academy training, Sidney sat himself on the bed and began to focus his energy on what he needed to do.

~

Thoroughness. That was key at this stage. With trembling fingers, Sidney checked himself over for injury or unwellness and marked each down on the sheet. His ankle still burned, his knee was scraped, and he'd have been happier with a Xanax, but overall he was unharmed. Fit. Fit enough for bonding. Sidney shivered.

He'd always expected to bond, of course, but never under these circumstances. And never with a Sentinel he didn't know. What if the guy was some kind of freak? Or an abuser? Or just a jackass? Sid sat and worried over the possibilities for a minute before he finally forced himself to snap out of it.

What was done was done, and like it or not, that click from the front room meant that there was a very large and horny Alpha Sentinel waiting just outside of the door to bond with him. 

~


	9. Back

Ryan re-entered the apartment twenty minutes later, all Alpha scent and Sentinel swagger, obviously feeling both bold and victorious. Sidney flinched at the sound of the bedroom door opening, then swallowed and tried to be still and small. 

"Hey."  
Sid considered running, he considered crying, and he considered faking an injury, but those first two cards had already been played, and the last was a useless and pitiful tactic against a Sentinel, so instead he just swallowed and looked up at his Sentinel.  
"Hey."  
"Want to get all bathed up?"  
 _Not really._  
"Yeah."  
"Come on. I'll go in with you. I'll wash your back."  
That was unusual, but it was sweet and so Sid allowed it.

They went into the small, clean bathroom and stood together on the mat by the tub. Ryan stripped and stepped in first, then reached over to turn on the tap and get the hot water flowing.

"Do you like it really hot?"  
Sidney shrugged, finding it impossible - and frankly ridiculous - that he be asked to answer questions at a time like this. Ryan glanced at him, a look that might have been pity or love in a different time but now just felt like unknowing, and then adjusted the dial screen to something just hot enough. Together, he and Sidney stepped beneath the cascade.

In the shower, Sidney glanced around and realized that despite his attempt to get his head in order, he'd forgotten to seek out the unscent-wash. Another wave of shame slipped over him: he was supposed to be a Guide, and he couldn't even take a fucking bath correctly? That was just like him. Never getting it right; never getting it at all. 

Most of his Academy cohort had bonded shortly after their 25th year; those who hadn't had at least done interesting things - SSN exchange years with the foreign outposts, or medic training, or something like that. Even Dinny had kept up with his art. Then they'd all come back and started dating or signed up for Match Services, or just straight-up _gotten pregnant_ and it had all ended in bonding and _even Dinny had done it, even Dinny_ and now there was just Sidney, standing alone.

In front of him, Ryan shifted, and water coursed over the slick lines between the muscles of his torso. Sidney looked out of reflex, eyes skating down a lightly-furred chest to where a thatch of hair sheltered an impressive - and interested - cock.

A late bloomer, his teachers had called him in primary ed. And his Guide-father had rubbed his ear and told him that wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but they'd been sure then that Sidney would catch up. Sidney wasn't so sure, had said so last week when he'd called home, and his Guide-father had cooed at him and assured him and his Sentinel-father had asked him if he might maybe think about going to Match Services sometime soon. 

But how could he do that if he couldn't even get a fucking bath right? Sidney felt hot and tearful, but managed to restrain that because goddammit, he'd been embarrassed enough. Instead, he just did not look at the naked Sentinel inches away from his personal space, crossed his arms, and mumbled something about needing the wash.

Ryan saved him from further conversation, reaching to the shelf just outside the shower and offering Sidney an SSN-labeled bottle and a clear view of a small tattoo on the underside of one well-muscled arm.  
"Courtesy of the good, taxpaying Sentinels of the Sovereignty." he joked. 

Sid wanted to say something cruel or clever at least because _who fucking cared if Guides didn't pay taxes_ , but their fingers had touched again and now his head was buzzing again and there was a growing warmth at the base of his spine that seemed to be unfurling itself around his hipbones. Sidney shivered, and Ryan moved him forward so that he was mostly-submerged in the water. His hand, where it had rested on Sidney's shoulderblade, left an energy impression like cold water and treetops and birdsong and clear, blinking eyes.

"Here," Ryan said, helping Sidney to turn away from him, "We'll start with your back first."

~


	10. Controlling It

By the time they were halfway through the longest shower of Sidney's life, he felt mostly-clean, slightly horny, and completely terrified of the growing strength of the bond-gap.

Ryan had been careful with him; gentle as he washed, letting Sidney have the cloth for anything too intimate that made the Guide tense up and his energy bunch up together in weird, staccato bursts that Ryan didn't like.

Talking helped, Sidney realized; Ryan had asked him a few quiet questions first, then monologued about himself and his hometown, then told Sidney a bit about his life now. A lifetime Sentinel, four siblings, all purebred, father a well-respected Alpha, promoted early, exceptional bravery in service and a candidate for the upcoming Diplomatic Advanced Training nominations. He asked Sidney if he'd mind moving. Sidney thought of his parents at home along the coast and said no.

The necessary cleansing was over, but Sidney still lingered under the water. His energy felt more level than it had in a long time, and he decided to languor in the heat as long as Ryan would let him. The Sentinel, for his part, seemed content to slowly acquaint himself with Sidney's skin.

"Tell me about your fertility." he said, suddenly but calmly, as he drew the soft, thick washing cloth over Sidney's shoulders again.

Sid flushed to the tips of his toes. The hot water and shadows masked it, but his energy didn't. Ryan did him the courtesy of ignoring the energy spike; this was a change from the bursts before, when Sidney had gone stiff and Ryan had stepped away from him. Sidney bit his lip; he hated talking about this stuff on a good day, and certainly not under these circumstances. Bringing up fertility brought home the fact that there was an inevitability that lay just beyond the bathroom door. And anyway, he snarked to himself, who started off with a line like that? Did Justin ever say to Dinny, 'Tell me about your fertility?' Doubtful. 

"What do you want to know?"  
"You could start with your rating." Ryan kissed the wet skin at the junction of Sidney's arm and shoulder. "Then go on to your history."  
Sidney's face got hot.  
"It's an A-minus. Age-related."  
"Uh-huh. And any past history of complications? Infections? Terminations?"  
"None, none, none."

Ryan made an approving sound and slipped his arms around his guide's waist, dragging wet cloth over one hipbone. Sid felt a spike of anxiety.  
"And how are you controlling it now?"  
The omega was silent until Ryan kissed his shoulder again, prompting him.  
"How are you controlling your fertility, sweetheart?" he repeated, in a firmer tone.  
"I have a disc." Sidney answered, finally, his voice sounding weak and tinny to his own ears.  
"OK." Ryan said, agreeably. "Well, let's get that out of you."

Obviously, Sidney had known that this could happen; that the disc could be considered an impediment to scent-correct bond establishment. He'd thought about asking for the shot before they'd left the Center, and still wasn't sure what had stopped him. Perhaps he'd been fairly certain that he'd be able to appeal? Or perhaps he'd been too busy sorting through the madness to try to keep track of something as trivial as a 2-second jab he'd never had before. Maybe it had just been his usual forgetfulness kicking in, or his laziness or he'd been embarrassed to ask the nurse and admit defeat, or…maybe there had been some tiny fraction of a smidgen of an impulse that _it wouldn't be so bad_ and it had quietly run away with the warning signals that would normally be ringing in that corner of his mind.

Regardless of how he'd gotten here, here he was - and Ryan was watching him, head cocked to the side, waiting patiently for some sort of a reaction. Eventually, the Alpha reached a hand out to catch his Guide's hip, expression gentle but touch firm.

Then Ryan directed him to stand, legs apart, facing the shower wall. Wondering why and citing years of Academy conditioning, Sidney allowed himself to be pushed into position. He braced two hands on the wet tile, back angling a bit in such a way that he hit lordosis by accident and suddenly found it exponentially more difficult to resist the Alpha's urging touch. Ryan splayed strong hands over Sidney's sides, fingertips dancing across the sensational wonderland that was the omega's wet skin, then withdrew.

The Guide whimpered as his Sentinel slipped two fingers into him, then jerked as he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Shhh." Ryan's left hand spread out across the lower ridge of Sidney's spine, urging him back into place. "It's OK, babe, it's OK." Sidney groaned and seized upward as two of his Sentinel's long, elegant fingers plunged deeper into his rapidly-slicking cunt.

"'S'alright. You're alright. I'm taking care of you." the Alpha assured him, and Sidney's fingers flexed and tensed against the tile. The hot water poured down around him, spilling over the low border of the shower's edge and pooling on the ground. Ryan stroked the inside of his walls, probing gently but intently.  
"Come on, beautiful." he whispered, more to himself than to Sidney, "Let me have it."

Beneath his touch, his Guide trembled and shook.

"Ryan," he begged, thighs tensing as Ryan's fingers brushed his target. "Ryan, wait. Alpha. Alpha, please." 

The Sentinel ignored this and pressed hard on his Guide's back - a reminder to stay in place. Sidney sucked in a breath that was obscured by the pounding of the shower, and Ryan slid his fingers back counterclockwise, caught hold of what he'd been seeking, and firmed his grasp.

"Shh. You're doing fine. You're doing so good. Now just be still for me, dove." Ryan urged, and Sidney whimpered in protest.  
"Sentinel, please - Ryan, I can't - "

But before his plea could fully register, the Sentinel caught the tab, gave a little tug and slipped the small plastic disc free of its resting place against Sidney's cervix. Sidney made a garbled sound that was something like a moan and lurched upward, meeting the resistance of Ryan's firm grasp.

"Be still, little bird. Just one more second…"

Then he drew down gently and Sidney felt the fertility suppressant disc slip down his passage and out. He dropped his forehead to touch the wall of the shower and whined. 

"There we go." Ryan crooned at him, rubbing circles with both thumbs at the small of Sidney's back. "Feels better, doesn't it? All out, that's better. You're so good, such a good Guide. My good Guide, my omega. I bet that feels better, doesn't it? Come on, I've got you." the Alpha soothed. "You're alright." Sidney trembled.

"Why?" he managed, eventually, and Ryan leaned his head forward so that his head rested in the space between Sidney's shoulders.  
"Because that's the way it's supposed to be, Sidney. It would be a weak bond otherwise."

Sidney flexed and released his fingers on the tile, feeling his energy kick up and his emotions rise.

~


	11. Laved.

Ryan toweled Sidney dry first, then himself.  
"Bed." he said, gruffly, turning from the quivering Guide in front of him. "Let's go."

Sidney trailed behind him and felt a thousand things, none of them _eagerness._

Ryan crossed the threshold first, then stopped; for lack of attentiveness, Sidney ran straight into him and the feeling of apartness between them slipped away in scales where they touched. Sid felt a punch like the last day at Academy and a terrible feeling of old, poignant pain and another bunching of energy, but the latter one came in as shades of green and unfamiliarity, and it dawned on him slowly that this was _Ryan_. 

"We have to do this right." the Sentinel said, suddenly, and Sidney looked up to find the young Alpha looking at him from one side, lines beyond his age appearing at the corners of two grey eyes. "We - " he hesitated, made a fist of one hand and then released it. "There can't be anything between us. No barriers, or it won't be right. It won't stick." Ryan bit his lip. "We have to do this the way it's supposed to go, but - I don't want to hurt you, I'm - "

The Sentinel broke off, and Sidney felt his energy jump and back-curl in waves of intensity, each one more erratic than the last.

"I know." Sidney said, and meant it to come out churlish and pissed-off and omega-snarky, but the connection between them was growing stronger, and there was something easy and pink in the spaces where they were close together, and Ryan was young and vulnerable and it all just felt half-baked and crazy and all potential but no answers. Sidney's insolence came out as reassurance instead.

Ryan exhaled and shifted his gaze to check around the room one more time, his animus still territorial and pacing. _Such a good Alpha_ , Sidney thought, and for a moment, the distress was gone, the fear beaten back. His anima chirred and ruffled and settled into a soft place. Then Ryan blinked against the thin slats of morning light that peeked around the edges of the closed blinds, and his half-slitted eyes looked silver and fierce and Sidney found his heart was pounding again. 

The Sentinel sensed this, heard the quickening of his Guide's pulse and caught the scent of his omega's fear. When he turned back to Sidney, his gaze was unfocused but determined. 

"I won't hurt you. " the Sentinel said, and it was an oath and a declaration of love.

"I know." Sidney said again, and lifted a hand to lay between the deep divots of cut muscle in the Sentinel's upper back. Exhaustion came to Sidney all at once, and anticipation, and a sort of acceptance that was the better part of comfort. And there was the kind of palliative warmth that his anima always provided, sweet girl that she was, always knowing what to do. 

"It's getting harder." Ryan said, plaintively. "To control myself."

Sidney's heart beat even faster, but they were touching now and the bond was starting. In the place between them, the slip of air and energy melded together into something delicious and terrifying that lit up his anima-eyes.

Ryan turned, abruptly, and kissed him. Where their lips met, Sidney felt cold water and summer mornings with a wood fire; alpine ice and the scent of his mother; strange paws pounding the ground, the giddy freedom of an adolescent launching himself into the lake; a cold-hot sun; an old man with shorn hair and a soft hat that smelled of the sea; a woman's easy smile when she showed her spirit-self to him for the first time. 

The Sentinel pulled back from the kiss, laid their foreheads together. His energy was naked --inviting and surging in alternate bursts; calling out to Sidney, calling out to the Guide. Sidney trembled with the intimacy of the moment. Ryan's face was crumpled into consternation; he seemed afraid of what would happen next.

Then, slowly and all at once, it _did_ happen; they were one moment tangled together, legs askew on the edge of the bed, getting their bearings on life and each other and then in the next, they were transformed, touching the void, drawing their hot little line of bright light closer in the space between them, tying their energy and cementing their bond. 

Time passed while they languored, immersed completely in each other and absorbed in the sensualism of touch. Ryan gave him full latitude and Sidney explored his Sentinel's body with a passerine, provisional excitement. They resisted the urge to submerge in each other's energy, Sidney's head ringing with Ryan's demand that they _do this right_ and Ryan terrified to betray his own conviction.

They kissed, and the light outside grew brighter and Sidney tasted salmon and damp earth and a desperate, aching loneliness that gave him at least a fraction of an understanding of who this Sentinel was. Then there was an anxiety; a terrible, wracking fear of loss, and Sidney realized that this was the Sentinel's animus, the bear without a mountain, the searcher, the orphan, the fearsome wanderer.

Their kisses met touch and expanded; Ryan's human self hungry for more and neither his Alpha Sentinel nor his animus providing any protest. Sidney surprised himself with his disinhibited curiosity, reaching to draw slender fingers over the crux and meeting of muscle and sinew across the Sentinel's flushed chest and filling cock. He'd seen a Sentinel before, of course; had gawked as they all had at the running patrols and half-dressed unbond hunting groups who strutted by the Academy in the evenings. He'd seen films, too -- both approved and otherwise -- but none of that was this. None of it was _his_.

At that, at the acknowledgment of ownership -- or at least, occupancy -- Sidney felt a fierceness rise up in him that was wholly unfamiliar but utterly organic. He resisted the sensation for a moment; just a moment, before he gave up the fight and decided that he couldn't do this by half-measures; surrender offered no middle ground. So he gave in and let his Guide speak for him, let her chirr and snap at imagined rivals and preen over her conquest and then he licked the inside of the Sentinel's mouth and palmed over his rising cock and squeezed his arms to feel the strength of his power.

The bright sun became the low sun, and patience was lost on both of them. As if blown by a southerly wind, the energy in the room began to surge up, to spiral, to centrifuge itself into a maelstrom of spirit and want and promise and fear and understanding. 

Then Sidney nipped the Sentinel's jaw, and Ryan made a growl that was equal parts frustration and unbridled desire and reversed their positions, placing his omega beneath him. Breath coming in heavy breaks, he splayed one hand along the left side of Sidney's neck, pressing his thumb into the nerve cluster on the opposite side and turning the omega's head. 

Sidney keened, feeling a rush of endorphins as the pressure aggravated his gland, and the Sentinel licked the underside of his mate's jaw in gentle comfort. 

Then it was time, and Ryan was maneuvering them into a classical pose, helping Sidney to his hands and knees and finding stability behind him. He moved to kiss the side of Sidney's head, and the guide tried to look back over his shoulder but Ryan was bringing him up to his hands and knees into lordosis and there wasn't time. There was the heady feeling of flight, at dusk, through the pine-tops of his home; there was the cool dark of a safe haven from the whistling wind; there was the fresh clear waters of the mountain and the echoing noises of the forest. There was the merging, and the heat, and the thin bright line between them that drew closer, closer, closer. 

Ryan panted and grasped Sidney's hips and let his energy surge up a bit more. Sidney settled himself on his elbows and squeezed the pillow tightly and, when he panicked at the last minute, grasped around for Ryan and found the Sentinel pressed close to him, his touch gentle and the pink space between them full of reverence and love.

"I'm here." Ryan said, but it was half growl and half words and Sidney suddenly had a vision of a black bear standing beneath a tree in the forest, so that was one question answered.

Ryan slid into him first, wanting to be sure Sidney would feel it, would remember it before the maelstrom of sensations that marked their mental bond took him away. Sidney gasped and muffled a throaty whine in the pillowcase; Ryan stilled to give him space to adjust, to experience, to feel the full length of his Sentinel's cock before any complicated motion began.

A more experienced omega would have celebrated the rightness of it, the return to home, the deep satisfaction of being fucked by an Alpha in his prime. But Sidney had never been mounted before, and it hurt and he was frightened and his anima was no help. So instead, he whimpered against the damp cotton of the pillowcase and allowed himself a little sob when he thought the Sentinel wasn't listening.

Ryan _was_ listening, was always listening, and although he felt as if his human self were a thousand miles away, he still had the presence of mind remaining to move one hand to the back of Sidney's neck, to find the hot-red nerve cluster, the spot that would gentle him, soothe away the momentary pain. He stroked it again, and knew their bond was growing, because his vision doubled and a pleasure that was hedonistically deep licked up along his spine. The tension dropped out of Sidney, and he fell a little forward, and let his head down and shuddered.

Ryan kept a thumb there, ready to urge another burst of relaxation as an urge as ancient and primal as any reared up behind him. He fell to cover the omega along his back, let his other hand give him purchase on the bed, licked along the omega's jaw once more, messy and gentle, before finding the spot just at the juncture of his shoulder and biting down, hard. The omega jerked and gasped, then went completely limp. Ryan deepened the bite and opened his channels, and Sidney arched his back.

When he released, they were different people. Ryan's animus growled and licked the spot, laved the minor breaks in skin, and Sidney shivered.  
"Mine." the Sentinel rasped, the ragged edges of his voice full of promise. " _Mine_."


	12. Dockets & Dinny

Justin was the first to call the next day.  
"Sidney?"  
Sidney groaned, still reeling from the bonding and groggy from lack of sleep.  
"That's me." he slurred, and there was a pause at the other end of the line.   
Then, slowly:  
"Your name was on the docket this morning."

Justin was keeping his voice Sentinel-calm, but Sidney knew him well enough to hear the stress in it; his packmaster had been worried. He smiled and rolled over onto his side, belatedly realizing that Ryan wasn't in the bed.

"Yeah." he said, and his voice was resignation and awkward regret and just a hint of self-surprise.  
"Are you hurt?" Justin asked, bluntly.  
Sidney shook his head, then remembered that they couldn't see him.  
"I'm not hurt."  
"Has he - did he - has he been violent at all?"

Sidney blinked. There had been a few broken mugs, but that was only because Ryan had been holding them at just the moment Sidney had felt the second wave of bond-gap and everything else had become insignificant.

"No. He's fine."  
Justin was quiet for a moment, and Sidney heard a rustling that could be Dinny. Why hadn't Dinny been the one to call? Justin spoke again, and his voice was low, quiet, and confused.  
"Why did you go out, Sidney?" he asked, and he sounded as if he were both eager and tired but trying to be neither. "Was it - were you drunk?"  
Sidney pushed himself up to sitting in the bed. This was a more serious conversation than he'd anticipated. Most people, he reflected, just got a flurry of 'congratulations!!!' texts and squealing friends on the line. Only he would manage to get a Very Important Discussions™ talk from his best friend's husband.  
"No, I - I don't know. I just woke up and I just - just decided it was time, I guess."  
Justin paused again.  
"Because of Dinny?" he asked, "Because of the baby?"

Sidney's heart stopped in his chest. 

"The baby?" he repeated, and Justin swore.  
"He hasn't told you yet. You have to act surprised. He's been planning this whole big thing, and I thought he did it last night and that was why you -- "   
Sidney cut him off, grinning like a fool.  
"No. I had no - I mean, of course I'll act surprised! But I just - wow."  
Justin's voice had a smile in it when he answered.  
"Yeah, wow's about right."  
"Good on you."  
"Thanks." There was a moment's quiet. "We want to see you, Dinny and I. We're worried."  
Sidney shook his head.  
"Don't be worried. I'm fine. He's not crazy, he's not violent, he's not anything but…young."

Justin hesitated, and Sidney heard him swallow.  
"Sidney, I know we didn't…talk about this. And we should have, you and I. You're my - you're in my pack, and it's important for you to know, to learn about life and - I mean, Dinny and I thought we had a handle on things, when we dated, but there's -- everything is _different_ , Sidney, when you're bondmates, and we just - there's some things that I can't control, for myself, about how - about how things happen, and just -- like going feral. You remember that? I couldn't - it wasn't something I would have done before I bonded, but it just…everything is times ten. Times a hundred. Times a thousand. Just…" 

Justin sighed heavily, and Sidney imagined him running a hand over his head as he always did. 

"…just be careful."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to you all who've followed this little experiment in A/B/O dynamics! It's been a bit out of my league, but it's been fun. If you like this universe, however, come read more over at Moonrise! It's a proper Sentinel AU - without the complicated dynamics. :)


End file.
